She took a glance towards the window. ‘Stormy weather warnings again. We are in for another bitter night.’
The reel of film stopped whirling and Dixie pulled back the curtains.
Molly’s mind was elsewhere; she was thinking about what Dixie had just said and she felt exactly the same. ‘Dixie, you know what you’ve said about Bree?’ Molly paused. ‘I’ve been having flashbacks, … and it all started the second I laid eyes on her outside the homeless shelter. Now, the flashbacks are becoming more frequent.’
‘Flashbacks? What sort of flashbacks?’ questioned Dixie, sitting herself back down on the chair.
‘Back to my past, back to the time I was a little girl. It’s triggered something in me but I’m not sure what.’
‘Good or bad flashbacks?’
‘A little bit of both. It’s strange. I get a feeling of anxiety but wrapped up with hope. It all sounds so mad. I don’t understand it myself.’
Dixie cupped her hands around her mug, listening without interrupting Molly.
‘And I do know my emotions are all over the place with this pregnancy. I can burst into tears at a drop of a hat. I keep thinking about Di and Doug. They were just the best adoptive parents – beautiful people inside and out – and they would have loved George so much and the new baby. So that makes me feel sad as I think about them all the time, but these flashbacks take me way, way back.’
‘To when?’
‘To when I was a very small child – specifically the day the woman came and took me away to my new home. The flashbacks feature my biological mother, which is strange because I really can’t remember her. Her face is quite blurry but it’s the eyes. There’s something about her eyes.’
Molly shut her own eyes. ‘On and off over the years I’ve tried to picture her – you know when you try to force an image in your mind or think of someone’s voice? – but there’s been nothing for years. But seeing Bree something happened. There was something just familiar about her.’ Molly paused and took a sip of her tea. ‘In the memory I’m standing in a dingy flat with barely any sunlight filtering through the grimy window. A woman takes my hand, she smiles down at me and as we walk out of the door I look back over my shoulder at my birth mother. It all feels so real. I think it is real.’
‘And you never had these memories before you met Bree?’ asked Dixie, tentatively.
Molly shook her head. ‘I’ve never had any real memories of my mother.’ She rubbed her stomach distractedly.
‘You said you looked back over your shoulder. What happens when you look over your shoulder?’ asked Dixie.
Molly swallowed. ‘There’s a look in my mother’s eyes, one of sheer devastation, vulnerability, yet a small smile of hope.’ Molly gave herself a little shake. ‘It’s really hard to explain, but that look in her eyes was the same look I saw in Bree’s eyes. For a split second it felt like I was looking at the past, which I know is daft, but there was just something that triggered something in me. I’m really not making any sense now, am I?’
‘Have you ever had any contact with your birth mother?’ asked Dixie, offering Molly another chocolate biscuit.
Molly shook her head. ‘No, and I’m confused how I actually feel about any of it.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I’m really not sure what being adopted means to me. This is going to sound so heartless…’ Molly could feel the tears welling up her eyes. ‘Di and Doug were my world, they were my parents – I’ve never felt the need to know more about my birth parents even though they gave me life. That sounds so awful, doesn’t it?’
‘Not at all, it just shows how happy and loved you were.’
‘But since giving birth to George and with another baby on the way I suppose I’m beginning to think more about my birth mother. Who exactly was she and why suddenly are these thoughts becoming more frequent? From what I understand, the reason I was taken away from her in the first place was addiction. It’s a difficult one really.’
Darling jumped onto Molly’s lap and gently nudged her arm. She softly stroked her. ‘This one can sense I’m feeling emotional.’ She smiled at Darling, who curled up on the arm of the chair. ‘I think the pregnancy has generated feelings I’ve maybe buried. There’s Cam’s mum in New Zealand, and I know we have you, our fairy godmother and great-grandmother rolled into one, but I sometimes think that George is missing out by not knowing my side of the family. But then, I remember the reasons I was adopted. For all I know, my mother may still be an addict or could have ended up on the streets. If I wasn’t adopted that could have been my destiny.’
‘But it wasn’t. You were adopted by two people who loved you wholeheartedly, and look at you now, such a wonderful woman with a strong family and a successful business, even though I may be a teeny bit biased.’ Dixie gave her a warm smile.
‘I don’t want to see young girls on the streets like Bree, it actually makes me upset just thinking about it.’
‘It sounds like these flashbacks have uncovered some things that maybe you have buried within yourself, and now that they are resurfacing, they might need addressing. Have you talked to Cam about it?’
Molly shook her head. ‘I don’t feel I can at the minute. He’s not a fan of Bree and I’ve got this little niggle in my gut that something is bothering him and he’s not talking about it … but maybe I’m wrong.’
‘Can I give you a little word of advice?’
Molly nodded as she held Dixie’s gaze.
‘Talk to him. Don’t ever feel like you’re walking on eggshells. The second you start keeping things from each other, you are heading down a very slippery slope. It doesn’t matter how tired you are, or whether you think he won’t understand, what is important to you will be important to him. It’s all about compromise and balancing each other’s happiness. Over the years, George and I had some right humdingers. Believe it or not, I could be very stubborn at times.’ Dixie had a glint in her eye. ‘He used to call me feisty but I was just saying it how it was and that’s better than dilly-dallying. There were things that we didn’t see eye to eye on but we were united against the world and we never kept anything from each other, no matter how big or small. Talking and understanding each other’s views is the recipe for a long-standing marriage and we are proof of the pudding.’
